


Your Bucky

by babydraco



Series: Wildest Dreams [3]
Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Female Steve Rogers, Femdom, Flogging, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Light Dom/sub, Rule 63, Sub Bucky Barnes, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-23 09:52:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4872316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babydraco/pseuds/babydraco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a BDSM  Alternate Universe, the relationship between  female Steve Rogers and her young bonded sub Bucky  is tested by war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Some of us girls are going to the club tonight, want to come along?” Peggy drove through the exit gate of the base and turned onto the street that led to Steve and Bucky's apartment. 

“I can't, I have to get home. The little man is cooking dinner,” Steve said. 

“What does a seventeen year old boy know how to cook?” Peggy asked. 

“He claims he has all sorts of recipes, I don't know. I expect eggs and toast. Maybe soup. I can't complain, I'm not much better at cooking. Oh, and don't tell him I called him _my little man_.”

“You'll owe me a beer next time you do join us on the town, to keep me from telling him that,” Peggy said.

“I just- I have to spend tonight with him,” Steve explained. 

“Because you're being deployed,” Peggy observed. 

“It's our first time dealing with that. He won't say it but you know he hates being left alone like that, he's going to go all stiff upper lip about it.”

"You're not any better at that," Peggy said. Peggy was the worst of the three of them at hiding her feelings, but Steve wasn't in the mood to start an argument about who was the most repressed.

The apartment smelled like roast chicken and potatoes, Bucky came from the kitchen in their blue and white striped apron and wrapped his arms around her. He kissed her, and Steve pulled him closer, tangling a hand in his hair. Bucky smelled freshly showered, like the army issue soap they got in bulk. 

“Welcome home, Mistress,” he laughed softly. Steve didn't want to let go of him, but she did so reluctantly. _Mistress_ meant he was open to playing, but she was determined to have a serious talk first. 

“Dinner smells great, darling. I know you work hard too, so thanks.” It was good, fragrant roast chicken on a bed of potatoes soaked in broth. They ate in silence for a few minutes before Steve got up the nerve to broach the subject. 

“So, uh, I hate to have to do this, but I'm being deployed. Uh, we ship out tomorrow. Hopefully I won't be gone too long. I can't really tell you anything more than that.” 

“Oh,” Bucky said. He was remarkably calm about it. “Well, I'm glad I made you a nice dinner, then.”

“If you could pack a bag for me, I need to-”

“Already did it,” Bucky said. He smiled at her surprised blink. “Steve, this isn't exactly my first time around. I did all this stuff for my dad after my mom died.”

“Right. Of course,” said Steve. 

“I didn't make a dessert, we don't have enough rations,” Bucky admitted, quickly changing the subject as he rose to put their plates in the sink.

“Not a problem, I feel like playing,” Steve said. Bucky immediately held his arms up, wrists together, silently waiting for whatever she was going to bind them with. 

“Not tonight,” Steve said as gently as possible. “We can't risk you dropping while I'm gone. I meant a different kind of playing. Grab your sneakers and meet me in the park.”

Bucky laughed when Steve produced a baseball and two gloves, but he soon became enthusiastic about the game of high speed catch. It was obvious to Steve that it had been a long time since someone had taken an opportunity to indulge him like this, explicitly wanting nothing more than his companionship. Perhaps it had been his father, back in happier days. It was almost magical, the change in him as he forgot to be jaded and let her see the seventeen year old underneath the soldier. Bucky's carefree laughter was the best sound in the world. They played until the sun started to set and they were having so much fun they forgot why they'd started to play, and Steve accidentally threw the baseball too far into the woods to bother retrieving it. They ambled over to the comic book store, where Steve gave Bucky three dollars to buy whatever he wanted. 

“They have the new Captain America!” Bucky grabbed the issue off the shelf. On the cover, a busty woman in an American flag inspired dress ,and red boots, with an army helmet askew atop her blonde mane, stood posed confidently on a pile of rubble, raising a shield in victory. She bore a strong, but not exact, resemblance to Steve. “Boy, what a dame.” He glanced at Steve nervously, as if regretting the outburst. 

“Is that okay?”

“Is it okay that you like her? Bucky, you don't have to stop getting crushes on celebrities just because we're bonded,” Steve said. _Especially not if those celebrities are also actually me_ she didn't add. She still hadn't found a way to tell him.

“Maybe you could get a costume,” Bucky suggested with a sly smile that barely disguised his shuddering breath at the thought of being dominated by Captain America herself. 

“Maybe I could get a costume.” Why not, it's not as if the cartoon version of her costume was anything like the real costume she wore on missions.

After getting sodas at the drug store, they walked home, hand in hand in the dusk as the street lights came on. Bucky read aloud from his new comics, and jumped up to walk along the railing of the bridge with a gymnast's balance. Steve mused that the army could be making more use out of that agility than they were, but he was too young to be sent overseas. Let him stay safe for another year. 

At home, Steve told Bucky to leave the debris from dinner alone, to join her in bed. She quickly showered, applied a little face cream, and slipped into a nightgown and robe.

“Do you want me in pajamas?” Bucky asked with his mouth full of toothpaste. 

“Yeah, it's getting cold,” Steve said. After finishing in the bathroom, Bucky padded over in his flannel pjs and squirmed under the quilt with her. They played footsie under the blanket, giggling and rubbing their cold feet together. It devolved into mild tickling. “Did you have fun today?” 

“I like doing what you want. I didn't think you'd want to do what I wanted, but you did and you knew. It felt good.” Bucky snuggled against her.

“Bucky-you're okay that I didn't hurt you today? Or tie you up or anything like that?”

“I'm- I like to be good for you. Making you happy. It's you letting me help you, because I'm yours, that I like. It's like coming home.”

Attention and approval. And in turn, he would mold himself into whatever she wanted or needed, he wanted to show he belonged to her by being of service. It was a heady thing, a man giving her all that power.Even more so because his devotion had been earned, he didn't do it for the reward but he deserved to be repaid in affection and loyalty and...kindness. It turned her on more than the mere sight of his skin reddening under her hand or hearing his whimpering, just the idea of Bucky waiting with a drink and a footrub for her at the end of a long day. 

“So, today was still a good day?”

“Today was a good day,” Bucky murmured, with a happy blush. 

Steve had already been gone for two weeks. Bucky missed her so much, and he dreaded the time of day when he drove home to their empty apartment. Not even the fact that he was allowed to drive Miss Carter's car cheered him up. Unlike the majority of bonded submissives in the neighborhood, he worked all day, and he had promised to stay out of the bars at night. Bucky had volunteered for some extra projects on the base, but that didn't fill up as much time as he'd hoped. He didn't expect the doorbell to ring on a sleepy Saturday morning while he was morosely vacuuming the carpets. Bucky glanced through the peephole, frowning at Colonel Phillips standing out in the shabby hallway. 

Bucky almost didn't want to answer the door. The last time Phillips had come to his house, it had been to tell Bucky his father was dead, to shatter the last bit of safety and security he'd known until Steve came into his life. He felt dizzy. _Oh please, don't be bad news about Steve_. Bucky forced himself to twist the doorknob. 

“Colonel.”

“Private Barnes.May I speak with you?” The Colonel was alone, so Bucky figured it couldn't be bad news after all, they always...

“Yes, sir, please come in.” Bucky stepped back to allow him entry. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“I'd like that.” The Colonel took a seat on their couch, removing his hat and placing it on the coffee table. Bucky retrieved a glass of ice water for him. “Captain Rogers is doing an excellent job with your training.” 

“Thank you, sir, “ Bucky replied. “We turned out to be a good team after all.” 

“Yes...,” The Colonel said. He leaned forward and stared at Bucky intensely. “How would you like to really be useful to her? And help your country at the same time? Captain Rogers is trapped behind enemy lines and we need someone like you to help us get her out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Because this fictional society is more concerned with bdsm dynamic than gender, although there's still plenty of sexism and misogyny, women's roles have advanced further than they did in our 1940s, with women serving relatively equally in the armed forces during WWII


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky to the rescue! Um...sort of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for a bit of torture, and Nazis and anti semitism (which should be expected because Nazis)
> 
> final chapter coming later today

His foot slipped on the wet roof, as he crawled past a series of long skylights. Bucky heard and felt glass shatter underneath his boot. His leg dangled awkwardly, flailing for purchase in empty air. He heard male voices exclaiming in German below. Bucky swore internally as a hand reached up to grab at his ankle. He kicked out, feeling the crunch of broken bone, and crawled quickly forward before the guy could recover. Bucky sheltered behind a chimney, listening to people below him raising the alarm and running back and forth. 

He'd been parachuted in with Colonel Phillips and Miss Carter under cover of dark yesterday, brought to an Allied camp to be briefed and loaded up with supplies, before being driven five miles into the forest surrounding the prison and from there, left to make his own way in. He was supposed to keep his radio on but only allowed to use it to call for an extraction, but if he and the Captain weren't back by a certain time, he'd been promised men would be sent in to help. 

Bucky had never seen real combat before and he had expected his first overseas deployment to be with a battalion, as part of a mass of other unimportant pawns, not being thrown into the thick of it alone. He'd never shot anyone for real, he worried he would freak out when it came right down to the moment. But _Steve_. Steve was in trouble, his dom needed him. For Steve, Bucky knew he could kill. Or die trying. It was pure instinct. Bucky moved to the other side of the roof, away from the sounds of chaos. Well, at least he'd created a decent distraction. He pried a window open, attached a grappling hook to the ledge, and slid down a length of rope. He re packed the hook and cord, he'd been advised to get Steve out through a ground floor exit and to make for the woods. Bucky crept down dimly lit stone lined hallways, keeping away from the noise of running feet. He followed staircases downward. There were signs painted on the walls, in German, Bucky's German wasn't very good yet but he could make out that one said “Laboratories” and another said “Containment Area”. Bucky turned toward the containment area. What would they be containing, other than prisoners? 

He ran straight into a barred metal gate, and it was locked. Bucky gagged at the smell emanating from beyond it, from the long dark corridor filled with metal cages. It smelled like death, and fear. Every cage had at least two Allied soldiers, all thin, dirty and haunted looking. They all crowded to the front of their cages, faces hopeful. 

“I got backup coming,” Bucky whispered. “I need to find Captain Rogers. She's the tall, blonde American?”

“You mean Captain America,” a short, black, female Private whispered back. “They wouldn't keep her with us.”

“They'd want her close, she's valuable,” an Asian woman in the same cell interjected. “She'd be upstairs near the labs.” 

“Thanks! I'll be back later,” Bucky promised as he turned and ran back up the stairs before his brain registered what he'd just heard. _Captain America?_

The upper levels of the facility were warmer and better lit. As he crept along, Bucky drew a knife rather than risk having to fire a noisy gun. A soldier stood at attention, facing away from him. Bucky crept up behind and wrapped his arm around the guy's throat in a chokehold. Pretending that he hadn't had to stand on his toes to do it, he growled in the soldier's ear. 

“Captain America. Where is she?” A struggle ensued, which Bucky barely won thanks to his experience taking on big drunks in bar fights. “I said,” Bucky panted, holding his knife to the other man's throat, “Captain America. Where.”

The man pointed down the left corridor. Bucky knocked him out with the butt of his gun. He was slightly appalled at himself for considering slitting his throat. He ran on, desperate to get to Steve...to _Captain America_. He was now in the nicest part of the building, sterile labs and offices and...

A wall of fully armed German soldiers. Bucky turned to retreat and found his way blocked by more guards. They yelled at him in their harsh, gutteral language, Bucky may not have known the words but he understood the tone. He dropped all of his weapons, raising his hands in surrender. They kept yelling, and one soldier came forward and forced Bucky to his knees. The soldier yanked his arms behind his back, and frog marched him forward. He was thrown into a semi dark room, chained to a wall. They kept him there for hours. Sometimes a man would come in, always an officer, and spend an hour screaming at him in a mixture of languages. They would slap him, punch him, and kick his rips. When they got tired of that, they'd flash a bright light in his face or dump a bucket of freezing water over his head. In the end, he wasn't sure if it had been hours, or days when they unchained him and frog marched him down the hall to a different room

Bucky was hustled to a room with stone walls and warm, atmospheric lighting. The furnishings were rich, leather chairs and Oriental carpeting, oil paintings on the walls.A fire crackled away in an ornate fireplace. But parts of the floor were sectioned off into cheap, easily cleanable laminate, and not only were there manacles on the walls, ther e was a St. Andrew's Cross in the corner and a variety of complicated looking benches and tables with drop clothes underneath. A luxurious tub for water play stood on the right side of the room, along with a king sized bed. 

It was someone's Playroom. The Rogers apartment didn't have one, it was too small, and most soldiers Bucky had been with didn't have access to one either, but he recognized some of the toys from the Playroom his parents had set up in the spare bedroom(Bucky hadn't been allowed to go in there but sometimes the door got left open when they were cleaning). It was like that, but threatening, instead of being the property of a warm, loving couple, it gave the impression that some of the subs who came in, didn't come back out whole. 

“Take off the clothes!” The officer apparently in charge barked in stilted English.He flicked his finger at Bucky's military issue collar. “ _Sklavin!_ ”

Bucky froze in place. His heart leapt into his throat when he saw Steve, on her knees with her arms and legs shackled. Her costume was blue and white, flag inspired but much more practical than the comic book character's outfit, it was soiled all over and torn around her breasts. She met his eyes with her own shocked blue ones. She was his Steve, his _Mistress_ and Captain America all at once.

“Sklavin! Take off the clothes!” The soldier repeated, whacking Bucky on the arm with his gun. Humiliated and nauseous, Bucky stripped down, with the cold, cruel eyes of the Nazi soldiers on him. He knew what they were going to see, he knew it was going to be worse for him when they did. The insults that came when he finally pushed his underpants to the floor were worse than “slave girl”. They groped at his cock, examining it and roaring with laughter. But they fell silent when the door swung open and a new officer entered. 


	3. Chapter 3

_Schmidt_. The head of Hydra strode in dressed in full uniform. Steve suppressed her immediate fear and revulsion at the sight of him. He sharply directed his men to drag Bucky over to the wall and fasten the iron manacles around his wrists. Bucky faced away from her, but Steve saw the frightened tension in his back and shoulders. 

“This was a delightful surprise,” Schmidt said. “America was stupid enough to send a little boy to rescue you. Your slave is so pretty, you're a lucky woman, Captain.”

“He's not a slave,”Steve snapped _He was her lover, her friend, her other half_. 

“I forgot. Americans like to pretend everyone is equal. Your blacks and your Jews and your _submissives_. You make yourself weaker by pretending you're not a superior being to him. You, the perfect realization of the Superman, sparing empathy for this fragile child who was born to lick your boots. Why bother?” Schmidt snapped his fingers, one of his men opened a large rococo wardrobe, which was filled with a collection of pain toys and instruments of torture. He selected a vicious looking whip. 

Steve growled protectively. Bucky began to tremble as Schmidt stalked toward him.

“In a world ruled by Hydra, he would know his place. But your affection for him gives me a wonderful tool.” 

Steve squeezed her eyes shut at the sound of the first lash. Bucky had never been whipped,it was on his list of limits, and it was illegal in the US to use a whip or flogger on someone under the age of 18 anyway. He was entirely unprepared for the pain. Schmidt continued to talk as he struck Bucky repeatedly.

“The world's first Super Dom should take full control of her innate potential for sadism. It's our right to rule and their purpose to suffer.”

“Leave him alone, you sick bastard,” Steve cried. She had been subtly, quietly, testing the limits of her chains, straining her muscles, trying to snap the links or wriggle her hands out. “You monster!”

“And doesn't he suffer beautifully? Maybe instead of killing him in front of you, I'll kill you and keep him for myself. The only drawback is he's male, I can't make my master race with a boy. And a boy with tainted blood, at that! ” He let go with a particularly brutal blow, and Bucky gave an aborted scream of agony. “Not even useful as a stud. Turn him around so they can look at each other.”

The soldiers obeyed his command. 

“I should cut it off. Cut it off as they did in Persia and Babylon. Then perhaps I'd give him to Zola for a pet.” He began to assault Bucky's chest and stomach. Bucky's eyes rolled back in his head, his arms sagged in the irons. “He can watch you grow fat and happy with my children once you accept your destiny.”

“That is not my destiny,” Steve said. She almost had her arms free, and he was too busy enjoying the sound of his own voice to notice. Threatening Bucky seemed to give her a new burst of courage and adrenaline, she had been ready to give up before she saw how brave Bucky had been to come and try to rescue her. The protective rage she felt was animal in its intensity. He had touched Bucky and he needed to pay. “You're a deranged and deluded freak of nature. And Bucky?” Steve snapped the chains on her arms. 

“ _Bucky is mine_.”

She headbutted the nearest soldier, and rolled up on her shoulders to kick the next one in the stomach with her still chained feet. He flew into the nearest wall. She leg swept a couple more of the guards before wrestling a pistol off one of them (by biting his arm until she broke skin) and using the gun to shoot her chains.

Steve rolled to her feet, face to face with Hydra's head. Schmidt held a gun in his non whip hand, but Steve didn't hesitate, she shot his shoulder, causing him to drop the gun. She shot him again in the leg as he turned and ran, just as the skylight caved in and the room was flooded with Allied soldiers. Steve ran to Bucky, unlocking his shackles with a key she'd found on the table, and pulling him into her arms, kissing his forehead and cheeks. He sagged against her wordlessly. 

“I love you,” Steve murmured. “I love you I love you Bucky.”

********************************************************************************

She'd wanted to respectfully take Phillips to task later for taking advantage of Bucky's desperate desire to see action (who was she kidding, it wouldn't be respectful at all). Technically, it was illegal to force someone else's sub to act against their dom's wishes, but that complaint wasn't going to fly since Phillips was acting as a military commander in an emergency, and the goal had been to save Steve's life. Bucky was a soldier in his own right, with the same obligation to his country, it wasn't fair for Steve to expect that he'd always be able to stay safely in Camp LeHigh. It had made her reevaluate what she expected of Bucky, and it had given her an idea. She'd have to run it by the brass, because it would require bending certain rules, rules that were in place for a reason, but they could hardly deny her the privilege now. 

At the moment, all she wanted was to hold Bucky in her arms again. In the field hospital, Bucky was in a private area instead of a long tent full of other injured men (and the blood, and the screaming and the despair), and other than the doctor and Phillips, no doms were allowed near him. Apparently, the army nurse explained while escorting Steve through the camp, Colonel Phillips had arranged it because he “felt bad for getting Private Barnes into that clusterfuck of an op”. Phillips had feelings. Who knew. 

Bucky had quiet, at least. He lay under white sheets, half asleep, bandages covering his chest. Steve perched on the edge of his cot. 

“Who's my good boy? Who's my brave man?”

“Me?” Bucky groggily cracked one bruised eye open. “It is me,right?” 

“You were so brave,” Steve whispered. “I'm so proud of you.”

“You...needed my help.” He groped for her hand, Steve clasped it in hers. "Did the Red Skull- did he-?"

"No," Steve said. 

"Was he gonna?"

" Yeah. He thinks I'd be his ideal partner. But I already have you. You did so well, everyone has been telling me how brave you were. You're getting a medal and a promotion. But there's even more news.” Steve waited until Bucky had managed to focus his eyes again, and pretended to ignore the water pooling in them. “Bucky, I want you on my team. I want you to come on my next mission.”

“You mean, I can be your partner for real?” Bucky asked hoarsely. 

“Partners for real,” Steve said. “We're gonna get you a costume and everything.”


End file.
